


The Wick's Burnt Out

by FandomsAreMyFuel



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Cross-Posted on Wattpad, I really want to see this Sherlock trope more, It is Johnlock but could be gen, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Most the stuff I write is gen-slash because I'm too scared for anything else, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:20:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24247927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomsAreMyFuel/pseuds/FandomsAreMyFuel
Summary: "Shoot." Another voice said, commanding John who was standing in front of Sherlock. Sherlock saw Moriarty with a hand behind his back. John lifted his head and narrowed his eyes at the curly-haired man.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Kudos: 4





	The Wick's Burnt Out

"Yes, _Jim_ , I know." A voice echoed and circled the room like a growl, a low hiss from a tiger's jaws, teeth shining like ivory knives, sharping. The eyes shining deeply with a yellow glow that read more like a flame than predator. The flame, the predator's predator. He was called 'The Flame,' in The Spider's eyes, Spider's dark, psychotic eyes, which meant he took up the mantle promptly.

"I am very aware of my situation!" The Flame's eyes narrowed his oddly hue-filled eyes, his iris seem to ignore the state of his heart and hoarse voice that violently sliced through the air, as a skill of his was assassination. His eyes the complete opposite of cruel and harsh, which was the two words to describe his job, but he still needed to get rid of two folks, two very special folks.

His lips pursed together. He was not the one to usually follow orders, especially from a man who was having a one-on-one with the soon-to-be victim. "Oh, give me a break!" The Flame said, being aware of the door opening and he gave _Jim_ the 'secret word.'

_'Click'_

On the other side of London, two men sat in front of each other, one that was on his laptop, clicking away with a smile on his face, the other had his hands on his violin, a fog covered his colored eyes as he played.

A familiar ring filled the air. "A case!" Sherlock shot from his place where he just stood as tall as a tree, his partner, John Watson watched with a half-smirk, glancing from his laptop. He knew how deep Sherlock could get with anything, the violin was one of those things Sherlock got very rooted in.

"Sherlock--" John couldn't even get one thing out of his mouth before Sherlock tossed John his jacket. John tore his jacket off his face and saw Sherlock just placing his scarf gingerly on his neck, everything else on. John could swear Sherlock was a teleporting model at times.

"Let's go, John! We have a case, from Lestrade!" Sherlock said, in an also sing-songy tone, running out the door like a dog running behind a scent. John Watson smiled, _it was going to be, oh-so-good_.

_'Squeak'_

The door only gave a small, almost unnoticeable sound, but Greg Lestrade looked up, his face twisted as he felt another question flow into his D.I. mind. He noted that Sherlock brought John, meaning he was gonna get a lot of words along the lines of ' _John_ ' and ' _fantastic_!' and ' _easy_ ' and whatever Sherlock and John said in their very platonic talks.

"Sherlock, John." Greg greeted them and John nodded his head, giving Greg the impression John was returning it. Sherlock bounded straight for the stairs, his shoes not giving a single rest note in the creaks.

"No Anderson or Donovan?" John asked and Lestrade shrugged, replying.

"They had another case, one Sherlock refused to take up." He said and gestured towards the stairway with his left hand.

"Not unusual," John said and Greg nodded, face almost breaking into an expression of a similar semi-smirk as John did before.

The two followed suit in Sherlock's bounding steps and saw only one other officer guarding the body, Sherlock was in there, hand on his chin.

"John, tell me what you see." Sherlock finally opened his mouth and John's lips moved in a way everyone recognized as the ex-army doctor thinking. Soon, John shifted his feet and crouched down to examine the body as close as he could.

"I believe he was shot in the chest... with... a shotgun?" John said, Sherlock only raised an eyebrow at John's tone.

"Yes, and with the aim of a military man," Sherlock said, swiped a white and red note written in black ink from the victim's loosened and paling fingers. "You do know a man that went by ' _The Flame_ '?" Sherlock turned to John, who was shaking his head.

"No, but it does sound like something the kids back at Afgah would name themselves," John replied, giving Sherlock the ticket to smile his one-sided, crooked smile. "Seem like Moriarty's work?" John stood up, brushing a small wood piece off his pants.

"I know where to find them, only if I can get the place where the shotgun was bought." Sherlock hummed.

"New shotgun?" John asked.

"Yes, and it seemed bought right here, in London." Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "I can narrow down the search to about two places, the two places are the only two places to have these specific bullets."

"Really?" John's eyes darted to Sherlock.

"You sound surprised, and yes." Sherlock smiled, opening his mouth, but before Sherlock could say the four words John knew by heart and could say in five different languages.

"So, I guessing..." John smiled back at the consulting detective and Sherlock knew what John was hinting so heavily at. The taller man straightened up and let his eyes be caressed by the warm lamp's yellow glow like a child's eyes of stars.

"Yes, my dear Watson. The game? _It is on_!" Sherlock shouted, spinning on his heels and John followed, their shoes tapping like the song of bees.

_'Bzzt'_

The bee-like vibration of the lights made John slink like a cat into the shadows. His eyes spun in all directions as he kept his body close enough to Sherlock's so he wouldn't lose the man. He heard the lights overhead buzz with the swinging of chains that held them up.

"So, you're saying we'll find them here?" John whispered into Sherlock's ear and saw the man nod. Sherlock then slid behind another shelf lined with packages. John saw his flatmate snake into another room and John could only follow.

"Sherlock?" John said and Sherlock glanced at him, all before the world crashed, the door slammed closed. John's eyes widened and he rammed into the door, the door not even budging one bit. "Oh god, no." John breathed and Sherlock stepped into the bigger part of the room.

"Ah, Mr. 'Olmes!" A loud, booming voice sent the two into a state where John had his posture changed so that he looked similar to a dog, ready to pounce on the cat that scurried by. Sherlock stood tall and he glanced at the screen. "You know I love games, so--" Jim clapped twice, his face giddier than a kid getting a horse for Christmas. "--let's go!" Moriarty laughed, the lights of each row lighting up in a well-planned pattern.

_'Ring'_

_'Ring'_

_'Ring'_

Sherlock looked at John and he picked up his phone, putting it to his ear. "Hello, John Watson." John stared confusingly at the wall on the other side.

"Who is this?" He asked.

"Oh, just a friend." They giggled. "Please, put your phone on speaker." And John complied, he pressed the button and the giggling voice shifted into the voice they just heard.

"Now, you know I hate you keeping secrets," Jim said and John looked at Sherlock with an expression smeared of fear and realization. There six words that made Sherlock's eyes widened.

_"Please, Flame, take out your gun."_

John's hand moved towards his hip, where a gun was safely tucked in. Sherlock stepped back. He could only hear John's voice tell the man on the other side.

_'Tick'_

"Jim, I never agree now." John's voice had unconsciously shifted from Sherlock's flatmate's voice, a voice that made his own 'heart' pound.

_'Tock'_

"I never said when." The sneering voice commanded.

_'Tick'_

"I don't need your remarks!" The voice had turned rough, there was the sound of sandpaper rubbing against John's neck. Sherlock backed up, his hand cupped over his face. He never wanted this.

'Tock'

"Tsh, fine." John's voice echoed and Sherlock thought.

_'Tick'_

He thought.

'Tock'

All lives end.

_ 'Tick' _

All hearts are broken.

_ **'Tock'** _

Caring,

_ **'Tick'** _

Is not

_ **'Tock'** _

An

_ **'Tick'** _

Advantage.

_'To--'_

John pulled out his shotgun, Sherlock could see the same very details of the gun from his deduction earlier. His eyes meet John's. John's colored eyes, John's... now glowing yellow eyes. John pulled his gun up and Sherlock felt his hands drop next to his legs.

"John Watson," Sherlock stated, John pressed his finger near the trigger.

"Sherlock Holmes," John said, his eyes seemed to flicker between yellow and grey.

"Mycroft was right," Sherlock said, his eyes glaring at the shotgun. "Caring was never an advantage," Sherlock said, his tongue swiping between his lips. "I didn't think you would be someone who sided with Moriarty."

"I didn't think too." John's voice was... amused? Sherlock once again looked into John's eyes, and they seemed to light like a candle flame, a dark shadow over his face that was only lightened by his eyes.

"Shoot." Another voice said, commanding the man standing in front of Sherlock. Holmes saw Moriarty, hand behind his back. John lifted his head, narrowed his eyes.

"Gladly," John smirked, something Sherlock had never seen. The world's only consulting detective closed his eyes. He had never expected to die to someone he called his own friend.

_'Bam'_

Sherlock watched Moriarty's body fall elegantly to the ground, hands drifting by his side. John grabbed the gun by the handle, moving his hand so the gun moving just a tad bit up and down, almost like a dog's tail being restrained. Soon after, John took the gun and slammed the shotgun on Jim's body, it looked like John had thrown a boomerang.

"I don't exactly agree," John said in the voice Sherlock recognized, Watson shoved his hands in his pant pockets. Sherlock knew that voice, the voice of his best friend, his flatmate, his partner. 'John Watson.'

"Let's start over." 'John Watson' held out his hand and Sherlock didn't know why, but he took it and shook his hand. "My name is James Moriarty."


End file.
